S*T*U*F*F* Reloaded

I’ve just been to the pizza place across the road from the hotel. Its so pathetic I want to scream… here I am in one of the true gastronomic capitals of the world, and I’m eating a pepperoni pizza in a grimy little joint next to a granny wearing Pumas and smoking filterless cigarettes so strong that even a waft from her fag makes my head spin. Parisians love to smoke in restaurants. Even if they are crammed right up against you and you’re eating, they will happily light up. Its a nightmare.

Anyway, here I am. Paris, early March. Lucky to be alive, much more so to be spending my days in a rehearsal room with one of my favourite bands. It has been something other than what I expected… perhaps, to be honest, something other than what I hoped it would be. But it is nonetheless inspiring, enjoyable, and at times magical. They are close to obsessed with sounds… if you venture outside the realms of “Air sounds” then you get leapt upon. Fortunately the parts they played on the original records are just wonderful to play. I am very comfortable playing all the different stuff they have asked me to play - guitars, bass, keys, vocals, even a tambourine, which is a bollocks… harder than it looks.

It looks more and more like I will be spending much of the year with these guys. Originally my good friend, the outrageous talent that is Leo Abrahams was supposed to do this, but just couldn’t, owing to prior commitments, so he passed it on to me… but its not really going to work out that he can take over once I’ve done the first couple of tours. Its so complex, and its not really a gig for a guitarist… there’s more keyboards, bass and vocals than anything. Perfect for me.